


Clearance

by Synchron



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Banter, Bickering, Gen, It's so easy to forget that the DMC van is Large McHuge, They just wanted some snackos :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23947411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synchron/pseuds/Synchron
Summary: Stopping by for some 3am snacks is more costly than they thought.
Relationships: Nero & Nico (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Clearance

**Author's Note:**

> So a while back, I got [an idea](https://synchronmurmurs.tumblr.com/post/612440703054856192/also-omg-just-had-a-though-lemme-slam-it-down-here) for a doofy lil’ ficlet, and I’ve finally gotten around to putting it to words. It’s just a really quick lil’ thing I typed up over the course of the evening, but I hope y’all enjoy it!! I really don’t get to write Nico or Nero enough, their banter is so much fun. 😭😭

For a van that they managed to buy for dirt cheap, it's certainly come a long way from the rusted heap that was towed - yes, _towed_ \- into their driveway. After a (very) deep clean, and a restuffing and re-upholstering of the seats, Nero finds it to be rather comfortable now. Or maybe that's just his sore body talking, basking in another job very well done as he reclines in his seat. Heavy boots, encrusted with muck and demon bits kick up onto the dashboard one at a time as he sinks back into the synthetic leather. The window on his side is rolled down to let in the crisp night air (since the air conditioning needs to be regassed), and though Nero doesn't like the smell of the mainland - far too industrial for his liking - for once, he doesn't mind it all that much. If he closes his eyes, forces the smell of gasoline and exhaust fumes out of his mind, he can get away with imagining he's on the deck of a cruise ship.

A cruise ship that's smelling more and more like tobacco, but a cruise ship nonetheless.

Beside him, Nico puffs on a newly lit cigarette as she drives, the stick bouncing restlessly between her teeth. Unlike Nero, she isn't nearly as relaxed; being cooped up in the van while Nero got to blow off steam on some lowly demons was hardly her idea of an evening well spent. The only reason she agreed to be the chaperone at all is because she refuses to let stank ass men (her words) drive her van.

This unfortunately means Nico is the driver for _all_ of Fortuna's DMC jobs.

Thus, the only thing keeping Nico from lighting up another smoke or two and puffing on all of them at once is the hefty sum of money they walked away from the job with. And oh what perfect timing this big fat paycheck has; the van's in need of a service. She's more than capable of doing it herself of course (for reasons related to stank ass men touching her van) but the costs of refrigerant and oils and tools starts to stack up. The upcoming double golden arches upon a familiar red and white sign also has something to do with her glee.

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin', little bro?" Though her words are muffled by virtue of the cigarette between her teeth, Nero's known her long enough to be able to decipher her code.

"I'm older than you." Nero reminds her, eyes still closed. More and more, the dream-like cruise ship his mind conjured up is fading, giving way to much less elegant surroundings the more he smells grease and fries and salt on the wind. Oh he knows _exactly_ what Nico's thinking. "You wanna do a Macca's run?" He pauses to think about it. When was the last time he ate something unhealthy? Sure, he always feels really bloated afterwards, but he deserves a treat, right? This job has been the easiest money they've come by in months. "Shit, sign me up."

"Hell yeah–!" The van immediately and violently swerves to the right to make the turn, nearly bucking Nero right out of his seat in the process were it not for an ethereal pair of wings phasing into reality to grip at the dashboard. "Also, it's Mickey D's, you hick. Who the hell calls it Macca's?"

"Wh– you're the one with the southern accent."

"And you're the one who grew up on an island that probably had its own year count." Nico puts on an exaggerated voice. " _'Oh bless this year of our Lord Sparda, thirteen-twelve!'_ Blech."

"Oh, shut up. You _know_ we're not doing that anymore–" Nero's cut off when the van swerves again, this time in the opposite direction as it pulls up to the speaker box. "–for god's sake Nico, we're in a parking lot! You're supposed to be going fifteen in here. Think of the kids!"

"Hi, and welcome to McDonald's," comes a dull, uninterested voice from the speaker, "what can I get for you?" Despite the prompting, Nico merely continues to address Nero, earning her a barely audible sigh from the other end. "Yeah, like there's gonna be kiddies in a Mickey D's parkin' lot at three in the mornin'. Now whaddya want?"

Nero makes a face at her before he makes his simple (and rather practiced, Nico notes) request. "Fries and a cone."

The younger woman's nose scrunches up in disgust. "Ew, so you can dip 'em into the ice cream? That's gross."

"It's not gross! Nasty hick like you wouldn't know good eating if it slapped you in the face."

"Well maybe this nasty hick won't be gettin' your misbehavin' ass any icecream–" Satisfied with having gotten the last word in, Nico turns in her seat to half lean out the window, a completely unnecessary move on her part, but to her credit, they don't get to visit drive thrus often - Fortuna is unfortunately bereft of any and all fast food chains. The investment just isn't worth it. "Yeah hi, sorry 'bout that. Got a tantrum throwin' lil' tyke in the back here." That earns her car seat a swift kick. "I'll grab three apple pies, two large fries, and two cones."

"Wow," Nero exclaims, voice blunt and thick with the false pretense of offense, "and you were _just_ giving me shit about _my_ choices, you're totally gonna smear your cone all over those apple pies."

Nico silences him with a raised middle finger behind her.

"Great," says Mr. Tired And Uninterested, "you can collect your order at the next window around the corner."

"Yeup, be right there." When the speaker box clicks off, Nico settles back into her seat and begins to coast forwards. "Hey Nero, I think we got some change in the little coin thinger there. Just grab me a handful." Her eyes are on the road as the van begins to round the corner, but she glances off to the side when instead of a jingle of coins, she only hears rattling as Nero opens and closes a myriad of compartments, clearly failing to find the 'coin thinger'.

"Wait, where?"

"Right _there_!"

"Here?"

"That's the glovebox! It's _that_ thing!!"

"Can you be more clear than not at all?!"

"How clear d'you need me to be, I'm _sayin'_ it's–"

The impending argument is cut dramatically short by an ungodly screech - the sound of protesting steel before masonry explodes and showers the top of the van with debris. Both Nico and Nero look up just in time to see the overhang above the collection window get torn right off the side of the building in a rain of sparks and dust, before sliding slowly down the roof and over the front of the van in a taunting, unhurried pace. As it completes its downward descent towards the tarmac, the words upon the steel awning shimmer with a mocking gleam through the windshield:

**MAX. HEIGHT CLEARANCE 7FT.**

Slowly, and with a creak of pleather, Nero leans across the van towards Nico to peer out of her window at the McDonald's employee. In one hand is a tray holding two melting cones, and in the other, is a half outstretched paper bag. His face is as pale as Nero's hair.

"...so uh. How much is that gonna be?"

It cost the entire paycheck.

The fries weren't even fresh.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank y'all for reading...! 💖💖 Stay safe everynyan


End file.
